


The Five Year Plan

by jeralee



Series: The Tape [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Complete, F/M, Kazuhira is a human tragedy, Kazuhira is your husbando, Love, Nameless Protagonist, One Shot, Pure Love, Reader-Insert, Romance, Sexual Themes, Unreliable Narrator, a story about hurt and love at the same time, accepting people's flaws, love is blind, strong feelings, written for all the Kazuhira fans out there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-11 18:14:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19115053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeralee/pseuds/jeralee
Summary: A story about two lonely people who go together with an unseen outcome.Kazuhira x Reader[One shot - Complete]





	The Five Year Plan

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever one shot O_o I had a few ideas but it didn't seem to extend to a longer story so I've squished everything here.
> 
> I don't remember the Metal Gear series well because it's been a looooooong time since I played but I kind of wanted to write about Metal Gear again and chose to write one on Kaz. My only other MGS fic was written back in 2015, focusing on Raiden.
> 
> Therefore, please do accept my apologies in advance for OOC or if I get anything wrong. I'm not up to date at all. I am so, so sorry if I do. Please do treat this as a light-hearted read. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Do not own Metal Gear Solid series or any of its characters, this is a piece of pure fiction
> 
> This was written for all Kazuhira fans out there.

**THE FIVE YEAR PLAN**

...

...

...

* * *

  **Tape 1:** **When You Met Me.**

* * *

My husband and I have been happily married for a few years now.

The way we met was not unconventional. He had just moved into the neighborhood and he’d bought Old Man Robertson’s complex, a lonely and decrepit three storey house that was situated on the outskirts of town, deep in the woods and surrounded by snow. It had been empty and rundown for years. Old Man Robertson was rumored to be utterly, stark-raving mad, shooting his wife, his sons and himself with a shotgun.

Anyway, I met him in the bar - he was drinking a lot, seated on his lonesome at the counter and conversing with the barman about his pet huskies. I was to meet an old work colleague. I had dressed up for the occasion and I found myself exceptionally early - and I sat down beside him, minding my own business. He turned and saw me, looked at me from head to toe and then decided to buy me a drink. Presented with a glass of wine, I glanced over and saw the most saddest-looking, most unshaven man I had ever seen in my life. I remembered thinking to myself why was he wearing sunglasses indoors.

Nevertheless, somehow my friend ended up not coming and I was on my own with no plans whatsoever and a stranger was attempting to chat me up. With nothing to lose and I hadn’t been on a date for a while, I had dinner with the lonely gentleman. He seemed nice.

We left the bar scene and I suggested a nice restaurant in town that was well-known for their seafood dishes. We sat down and had a nice meal by candlelight, something the two of us had not done for a long time. I found out his name was _McDonnell Benedict Miller_ and he was retired. He used to work for the army which caused him to lose an arm and leg. During our initial conversation and I wasn’t sure if we had much of a connection or a spark, but it was nice to make a new friend as he correctly pointed out that I wasn't from Alaska either and I had a pleasant time speaking to him. I asked him if he had any family, to which I think he misinterpreted because he plainly informed me that he was single. At the very end, we exchanged phone numbers so we could keep in contact.

I received my first phonecall from him after a few days; I was not waiting for his call or anything, but it was nice to hear from him. There was some pointless small talk before he asked to see me again. I was to meet him at the bar, six o’clock in the evening. I agreed and I decided to make an effort in my appearance. We had dinner and it was different this time. He was smartly dressed, shaven, smelled of cologne (he had put in as much effort as I had), and he was flirtatious and turned on the charm… giving me honeyed words to hear and displaying ravishing smiles. I found it cute so I indulged him and soon he started calling me quite often.

Our dinner dates became more and more frequent, the tension between us escalating with each encounter…beginning with harmless but sensual foot rubs under the table as we sat opposite each other… which then evolved into bumping shoulders, lots of eye contact, full-on kisses on the lips and cheeks, neck… and finally, some heavy groping in a secluded bathroom cubicle.

All in all, I thought we were getting somewhere and for a while, my life was good. I was seeing a nice man.. my mother would be happy for me.

How wrong I was.

* * *

**Tape 2. When You Were A Womanizer.**

* * *

 

Since we turned up the heat, I didn’t hear from him for almost two weeks.

I grew concerned. He didn’t respond to my calls, texts or voice messages. However, I’d had enough experience with bad lovers in the past to know that this usually meant something bad had happened and things would possibly go downhill from here.

All in all, I was friendly with the owner of the bar and asked them or any member of staff to call me should they see my man. Therefore, I soon got a call - and I arrived at the bar as quickly as I could and my man was in the corner but before I could wave or call him, I saw that he was engaged in conversation with another woman and they looked very intimate together. I ducked and found a seat that would keep me out of their sights where I heard them laugh and chat animatedly and I couldn’t help but overhear; it was the same things he had told me - his time spent in the army, his training, how he lost his arm and leg, his pet trio of huskies. He was using everything he had used on me. He didn’t notice that I was around at all and I saw them leave together, heading towards the direction of the street that led to the seafood restaurant. My favorite place. Our place.

He hadn’t seen me.

…Well, I’d be damned.

I really liked him as well.

* * *

  **Tape 3. When You Told Me I Was Perfect in Every Way.**

* * *

 

I had a thing for blonds. I could not deny that I was incredibly attracted to him….perhaps not at the very beginning, as in, when we first met…It was more like, he grew on me.... The more time we had spent together and I discovered he was a quirky man with quirky traits. He enjoyed immersing himself in Inuit legends and folklore. His taste in music was interesting. I mean, I don't know anyone who enjoyed listening to the atmospheric sounds of steam locomotives but he did. I liked his grizzled appearance, the five o’clock shadow on his chin, and the fact that he was missing an arm and leg didn’t deter me at all. I liked listening to his stories and talking to him. I enjoyed spending time with him.

I guess he did not think the same of me.

Urgh, I am a fool. I would not be human if I said it did not hurt, and so my next few days were spent sprawled over my couch whilst watching realistic dramas on television and eating lots of ice cream in my pajamas.

Alas, life goes on and fate works in funny ways. I thought I wouldn’t hear from him again and I'd been dumped in one of the worst ways as possible, but I was wrong: one night, I received the most exciting news. The owner of the bar called me; I was surprised to have been called in the first instance but they said he was here and after consuming a few pints too many, he was shouting for me in his drunken rage and they put him on the phone…or tried to…he sounded terribly drunk and so I embarked on a journey to collect him. When I arrived, he was slumped over the counter.

“What happened to you?” I asked. I was the jilted lover but here I was.

“Nothing.” He replied coldly, slipping off the stool and limping outside. I was surprised he could still move in a straight line.

“I’ll take you home.” I said as I followed him, concerned for his welfare.

“Don’t need your charity… just go already. Leave me alone.” He’d changed completely, a one hundred and eighty degree turnaround. I didn't understand; I wasn’t used to it at all and wondered what had brought this on. He ended up pushing me away and hobbled down the cold street and I couldn’t leave him like that so I quickly called us a cab. When I returned to his side, he frowned and growled out, “Didn’t you hear a damn word I said?”

“I did.” I replied, undeterred by his loud voice and the threatening tone, “But I don’t think I can leave you alone right now.”

Following that, he muttered something incoherently under his breath.

Once the cab arrived, I helped him inside and asked him for his address; he spilled the beans after the third or fourth time I asked and he ended up dozing in my lap the entire trip. His house was very far from town after all and the roads were getting darker and darker, the snow becoming thicker and thicker. Soon, up ahead, I saw the lonely silhouette of a dark building and the cab stopped a great distance away. The snow was too thick and the driver wasn’t able to go any further. I paid the fare and tipped generously, then lifted my drunk man out of the car.

In the snow, I helped him and it was quite the ordeal. The cold was unforgiving. He struggled for the most part as I kept him hoisted up with his one arm over my shoulder whilst I planted my other hand firmly on his waist, his crutch included. He wouldn’t speak to or look at me the entire journey to his home.

His front porch was completely encased in a thick layer of snow and I proceeded to help him up the stairs and at the door, I silently searched him for his key and found it in the left pocket of his coat.

Inside, his house was cold and startling devoid of furniture. It was not exactly the typical bachelor’s pad. It was large and spacious and resembled a hunter’s cabin with the moose head fixed on the wall above the fireplace. There was a plush sofa with quilt pulled over the seats, a patch rug on the floor…then I saw a shelf with scotch, whisky and bourbon… and in the corner was the stairs and bookshelf full of awards, medals, photo frames and a phonograph record player. I helped him over to his couch so he could lie down and went to the fireplace, inspecting it before lighting a fire. I heard him get up, he took one look at me and once again, told me to go away, to leave him alone. I told him I wasn’t going anywhere and he stood up, grabbed his crutch and limped over to me and started cornering me against the wall.

Asking me what I wanted, I reiterated that I couldn’t leave him the way he was right now. He might hurt himself. He laughed bitterly and said he didn’t want my pity, that I should leave, why waste my time on a crippled, lonely old bastard like him. I should be with a younger, more successful man. I said I liked spending time with him and that I wanted to be with him. I didn’t know what had brought this behavior but I still wanted him and I hoped he wanted me too. He stared at me for a while before he started nearing me, his face inches from mine. I could smell the alcohol on his breath, see my reflection on the dark lens of his sunglasses.

He took my chin in his hand, lifting my face to his. Before our mouths met, I closed my eyes and he moved his hand to cup my jaw. I relished the sensation of his lips over mine and held him to me tightly, discovering that I desperately wanted to be in his embrace…I wanted to be with him, to be loved by him.

It was all I wanted.

Our lips fit so well, it was sinful. I slipped my hands into his hair, fingers threading through blond locks. We were pressed up so tightly against each other, I realized how much I had missed the sensation of his broad frame close to mine, the feel of strong arms (…or in his case, arm) wrapped around me. I was unfortunately at the mercy of this unfaithful, cheating piece of meat and I was angry with myself…so, so very angry…he was the kind of man my mother used to warn me about, the type of man my friends would not approve of…they would tell me I deserved better and I should forget this cheater, this womanizer, this playboy… but I brought this onto myself, I was drawn to him in many ways than one and the more he kissed me, the more he touched me, the more I had forgotten how he had hurt me. I had completely erased the anguish from my memory…and it had been replaced with longing. He was with me. I had won over this other woman. I was victorious. I was the one he wanted.

This feeling of being desired and wanted was enthralling. I was slipping, I was falling. I was falling, hard. Very soon, his hand slipped under my shirt and he was beginning to pull at it. I helped him, lifting my shirt over my head and soon it was discarded on the floor and the rest of my clothes followed. I was completely nude before him. He seemed to have sobered up and we stopped. He let go of me to remove his sunglasses and I saw that his eyes were blue and glossy. Cataracts, I thought, until I noticed he was reacting to what was in front of him, his eyes searching my body from head to toe.

“You’re perfect,” He murmured, “In every way.”

* * *

  **Tape 4. When We Got Back Together.**

* * *

 

We are together again.

We made love that night - our first time - and the next morning, we were snowed in. I woke up because he was having a distressing dream. It took a while to calm him down and he wasn’t ready to speak to me after that but I waited. We ended up spending the rest of the morning in bed and when he was feeling better, he made a joke about how this must have been my first time to have made love to a one-armed, one-legged man. His missing limbs didn’t bother me in the slightest and he went silent after my revelation and attempted to hug me close in a gruff manner whilst in bed. We just ended up rolling around in the sheets and then he pulled me on top of him.

He explained why he disappeared on me: he had been busy these past few days. Something happened, a personal matter…family related…and he had to take leave. Apologizing for his drunk behavior last night, he asked me to forgive him. I did so, with a smile and a kiss on one stubbly cheek. I brushed his messy hair and used my thumbs to stroke the sides of his cheeks, stroking the outlines of his rugged jaw. Then we made love again.

I stayed for lunch and although we made a poor attempt to make food, we shared a nice meal together. As we ate, he informed me I wasn’t his usual flings, not a one night stand. I was a little skeptical, because I feel he most likely told that to every woman he had been with. But then he mentioned that all the ladies he attempted to woo in the past were turned off by his missing appendages… no matter how handsome he was, no matter how charming he was…his missing arm and leg turned many women off and they didn’t feel like continuing whatever it was they were doing. He didn’t have relationships. One night stands, maybe. Ah, so that was the reason behind the crude joke.

Over time and we started seeing each other again; no more dinner dates, nope. We were past that stage now. I would go to his house most evenings and we would make love in front of the fire. It was becoming routine, one I didn’t want to break out of.

Six months later, and I was practically living there.

* * *

  **Tape 5. When You Proposed.**

* * *

 

“Marry me.” He murmured one day, during sex.

It didn’t sound like a question.

However, without batting an eyelid, I said, “Yes.”

The spontaneity was exciting. Our minds were buzzing with plans - a future we envisioned together - we would install a gym in his basement, we would adopt huskies, he wanted to set up his own business… Due to the extremely short notice, my parents never attended our wedding ceremony and he never met them. I told him I didn’t care for that so we were secretly wed and I agreed to live with him. The ceremony was a short one and I didn’t wear a wedding dress. We just quickly got dressed, left and went to the local church and asked for the priest to wed us on the spot right there and now. He had no ring but I was happy.

After exchanging vows, I was married to McDonnell Benedict Miller.

* * *

  **Tape 6, Side A. When You Found Out, Part 1.**

* * *

 

Those years went by quickly.

“I need to tell you something.”

I was in the kitchen thinking of what to make for dinner when he came downstairs, called me over and we sat down on the couch whilst our three huskies barked and whined and jumped onto the spare seats beside us, two of them resting their heads on our laps whilst the other curled up beside him. He exhaled gently and put his hand on her head, patting her ears softly, before he turned to me and said, very sternly, “Before this...all of this, I was a survival instructor and a commander.”

“I know,” I replied, “You told me when we first met.”

Shaking his head, he said, “No….there’s more you need to know about me.”

He told me everything.

His name was _Kazuhira Miller_. He told me about his life when he was a kid, how he grew up and in the seventies, he knew a man called _Big Boss._ He told me all the incidents he got involved in….the truth behind his lost arm and leg and the reason why he moved here.

He was tired. He no longer recognized himself. He tried to return to his old self, his old personality, but it wasn’t happening no matter how hard he tried. His hardships and experience had changed him. The betrayals he’d experienced in life filled his heart with a darkness, a void that could not be filled, or fixed. He would never be the same again and he didn’t think the move to Alaska would work... this attempt for a normal life. He had little, or none, expectations. He didn't fit in with people, didn't find anything in common. No-one understood how he felt. Couldn't relate. He was expecting to live and die alone for his remaining years.

He didn’t imagine that he would meet me, to get married. He didn’t understand why I agreed to marry him at all, especially because we didn’t know each other for long and then there was the age gap. He confessed that he was seeing another woman when he was seeing me, which I knew but never confronted him about it. I was the first woman who had accepted his flaws and insecurities. He liked talking to me and spending time with me. I had patience and I was mature for my age. I made him feel at ease and happy….He was a shell of a man, a shadow of his former self. He had nothing to offer me. He was broken, bitter, depressed, crippled, miserable, lonely…suffering from post traumatic stress disorder…. I made him feel needed and important. 

I reassured him that I loved him deeply, no matter his imperfections. It didn’t matter what his name was, whatever his name was… _Kazhuhira…Kaz…McDonnell….Benedict…Miller….Hell Master…_.The man before me was the man I married, my husband, whom I had vowed to love for the rest of my life, til death do us part.

We made love later that night.

* * *

  **Tape 6, Side B. When You Found Out, Part 2.**

* * *

 

He was asleep when I left the bedroom to go downstairs for a drink of water. It was night-time, and I heard one of the huskies howling… and all of a sudden it was cut short and I heard a pained whine from our beloved pet. Immediately, I knew something was wrong, put down my cup and ran for the cupboard underneath the kitchen sink before I heard the sound of two shots being fired from a silencer. Time was of essence as I proceeded to hear footsteps entering the lounge.

Opening the cupboard, I pulled out my two loaded handguns, grabbed a knife and went to the dumbwaiter, squeezing myself inside and pulling the door shut behind me. As I hoisted myself upstairs, the anxiety kept piling up and up and my heart was beating so fast, I was terrified. I hoped that I would be quick enough. No sooner had I arrived at our hallway and I heard muffled grunts and yells from within followed by sounds of gunfire. Fearing I was too late, I rushed towards our bedroom door - which was open - and found my husband inside wrestling with one of the assailants whilst another was lying on the floor, his helmet sprayed with blood.

Holding my gun up, I fired at the assassin who was grappling with my husband; the bullet slammed into his back and he went limp.

A third man entered, stunned to see his comrades dead. I was quick to anticipate him, disarming him. I dealt a blow to his elbow, a strike to the gut, kicked him in the back of the knee to make him fall… I smacked the gun out of his hands and with my firearm, ejected a bullet under his chin. It happened very quickly, less than five seconds. Outside, a masked man had just made it to the landing and immediately drew his weapon. He fired a few rounds at me but luckily I had a human shield and when he was out of bullets, I pulled out the knife and threw it into his right eye. He was dead on the spot and promptly rolled down the stairs.

My husband glanced at me as I let go of the body and all went silent. Without looking at him, I shot two bullets into the man’s skull for good measure before firing two rounds into the man who lay on the floor and the one on the bed.

“We need to go.” I said quickly, slotting the gun into the holster that sat behind my waist.

“Who are you?”

“I’m your wife.”

He wasn’t convinced.

“It was the plan,” I added, “A five year plan.”

When I reached for him, helping him off the bed and onto the floor, he started piecing some things together no matter how subtle or insignificant it was. My missing, or lack of, parents…. My lack of friends, how I took every opportunity to meet him, how I took the opportunity to take him home that night when he became far too drunk… and I wondered if he’d ask me if I truly loved him but all I got was a form of jaded, quiet compliance as I helped him to the floor to lean against the wall away from impending enemy fire. I took his prosthetics and handed them to him, which he was beginning to attach.

“Was getting married to me part of the plan too?”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Why?”

“I wanted peace and I found that with you.”

Silence spawned between us once more until he finally said, “The dogs?”

“Dead.”

He threw his gaze to the ground and cursed. "Anything else you want to tell me?”

“There’s a gun under the bed.”

Agitated, he scrubbed his palm over his face and growled, "Get out.”

“…What?”

“I said, get out. Leave.”

“You can’t fight them on your own.”

“Don’t make me repeat myself.”

What else could I say to save this situation? “I’m pregnant.”

That made him hesitate, but he still said, “Go.”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve told you. I wanted to.” I didn’t know else what to say. I had hurt him, deeply. Ultimately, I decided I should leave him alone for the time being. “Okay…There’s a gun in the dresser, under the floorboards, there’s one in the landing, under the table with the air freshener, there’s a gun in the vase - you know, the one you keep telling me to throw out because you think it's ugly with the fake tulips. And there’s a gun in the staircase, underneath the second step and the last step.” I went on and on, until I had exhausted every single location of all the weapons I’d kept hidden, the guns I’d put away for situations like these. The guns to keep him safe, to protect him. However, the more I spoke, I could tell he was becoming enraged. 

He sat wordlessly as I pulled out one of my suitcases and unlocked it to reveal all the weapons, equipment and suits I had kept over the years. I donned them and stood and he saw me for what I truly was.

“I'm going to do a quick sweep and come back, dear," I handed him a Glock for self-defence, "Don't go anywhere, just wait for me.”

He didn't respond.

“Wait for me, okay?” 

"Fine." 

"I love you." I said, kneeling before him and planting a quick kiss on his mouth.

"Love you too, dear." He murmured.

* * *

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading and hope it wasn't too long drawn out.
> 
> If you guessed the outcome, yay! I didn't make anything obvious at all until the very end.
> 
> I’ve left a lot of things open for speculation. Reader's origins can be left for speculation as the premise of the fic is that Reader is a spy sent to assassinate Kazuhira Miller years prior the Shadow Moses Incident. He has retired to Alaska and she deliberately meets him and seduces him as it is part of a 'five year plan', but she ends up truly loving him and they get married. When assassins come, she reveals herself. The format of the fic was inspired by Paz's tapes.
> 
> Miller’s personality here is a mix of MGSV with some of his womanizing traits in Peace Walker albeit toned down because he’s portrayed as a lot older in this fic.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed and thanks for reading!


End file.
